Stranded
by romanov16
Summary: After falling from a gunship during the First Battle of Geonosis, Clone Trooper CT-9874 -"Damon"- must survive a warzone with a beautiful Galactic Senator as his only ally, if they are to rescue their friends and brothers. Rate T for description of a warzone.
1. Damon

xox

"Chivalry isn't dead, it just followed wherever the lady went" -Alderaanian Proverb

* * *

 _chapter 1_

 _"Uuuragh_ ," came the half moan, half growl, from Clone Trooper CT-9874, as the arid world of Geonoisis came swarming back into his reawakened vision, every miserable stars-forsaken speck of it -harsh orange sands contrasting viscously from the cold blues and grays of Kamino's never ending oceans.

( _B_ _leh_ -he'd have never of thought that he'd feel _sentimental_ about the frequently storm-riddled world...but in all honestly, he 'ave given his decee if he could have one of his homeworld's rain clouds over his head for a good rinse -under his armor Damon -as he was know to his brothers- had sand in places where minuscule grains should _never_ be.)

Recognizing that he was on his back with his weapon leaning against his stomach, Damon tentatively began flexing his arms and legs to assessed if anything was broken. From what he could tell, nothing was. Everything seemed to be in working order, save for a slight pounding in his head.

 _Which means I have no excuse to be on my shebs,_ he thought determinedly.

Drawing his elbows upward to his shoulders at twin ninety-degree angles, Damon shoved himself upright with a grunt of effort and cursed a blue streak that would have earned him at least two demerits back in training when stars exploded before his eyes, blinding him for a few wreathed moments. When the stars faded and Damon could once again see the three-hundred and sixty-degree screen on his HUD display, he didn't waste any time in scooping up his blaster, and standing up to scan the surrounding area.

Spying no immediate danger -the closest fighting between his brothers and the tinnies taking place a good several clinks away- Damon relaxed his stance for a moment, before tensing again.

What the _fekking hell_ happen?! How had he gotten here; lying on a sand mound like a good-for-nothing bum? Where was his squad? His gut sinking like a sarlacc pit, Damon tried to remember any events pier to being unconscious, while checking his mates' POV icons to get their updates...only to find himself staring at static.

Which meant that either his squad was out-of-rang, or that they were dea... _gone._

Needless to say, he found the first scenario to be much more bearable than the second.

Damon swallowed hard, his fingers clenching around his decee until they hurt. _Pull yourself together ner vod,_ a voice inside his head told him -sounding surprisingly like his no-nonsense brother Straight-Up. _Even if we're not gone, there nothing you can do for us now. Finish the mission._

The mission...what _was_ the mission?

Pressing a close fist to his visor, Damon tried to think back...flying. He defiantly remembered flying -being up in the air. A gunship, rocking back and forth like the waves in a Kaminoian tsunami. He remembered...that his squad hadn't been alone. They had been accompanied by two of the Jedi that the Clone Army had come to this backwater world to save, having yanked them out of the execution arena where they were suppose to meet their ends.

And still had hadn't been all...there had been a woman too, the first human woman Damon and his bothers had ever seen, that somehow got herself thrown into a warzone.

Damon remembered standing near the edge of the door (a rookie mistake, he groused silently to himself). He remembered...an explosion that tipped the gunship - tossing both him and the woman clean out the door onto the sand below...the _woman._

"Oh _kriff!"_ he hissed under his breath as realization hit him. Turning his head from side to side, he tried to find any sign of her. She...she had been standing to the left of him, and the mound he was on was narrower than a blaster bolt. Since he hadn't woken up with her on top of him, that meant that she most likely fell down the hill...

Move quickly to peer over into the dip, Damon swore again when he spotted her lying prone at the base of the mound, her white attire -tore as it was- standing out like Hoth snow on the Geonoisian sand. Reacting instinctively, Damon shouldered his DC and tried to make his way down to her -only to be forced to pull back when the sand gave way under his armored foot. The mound was unstable.

 _Well, this day just keeps getting better, don't it?_

* * *

In the end, Damon had to make his way down the mound from the side, taking care with each and every step. It was mad slow, and the fact that their was someone who possible needed help made it all the worse.

 _But you won't be any good to her if you tip and break a leg._ His internal Straight-Up voice shot back. _Go slow Damon._

He sighed inwardly. _Whatever you say brother._

It seem to take forever, but eventually Damon reached the bottom...and as luck would have it, that was when the woman began to show signs of movement. Slowly, gradually, her own limbs bean to stir with hesitant life; slim fingers curling reflexively. Her eyes flickered open before immediately shutting again to shield them against the oppressive rays of sun, moaning in protest.

Motivated by a fresh sense of urgency, Damon jogged the last few yards over to her, and droop to one knee at the woman's side, hoping to appear as harmless to her as possible. Well, as harmless as he could be carrying a DC-15, all decked out in in full white body-armor.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, his somewhat gruff tone at odds with his gentler position. He fidgeted a bit, feeling awkward and even a bit useless. He wasn't a medic. He wasn't sure what the frak he was suppose to do. Had the woman been a fellow clone, he would have reached out and grasped a shoulder. But that fact was that she wasn't a brother, and the idea of touching her felt...odd. Tabooed. Even if for a amateur medic purpose...and _frek_ , he hoped she wasn't seriously hurt. If he had to carry her, they'd be easy picking for the droids.

On top of all this, the woman was so _small_ -her dark hair making her almost fragile looking, and Damon couldn't shake the thought that he'd bruised her if he touched her.

This feeling multiplied considerable when the woman's head turned, and a giant pair brown eyes open to peer into his own -the exact color of the Corellian chocolate bar his batch brothers had shared with him on their fifth life-day (or tenth, depend on how you looked at like); a gift from one of the more sympathetic trainers on Kamino -a bounty hunter with boys of his own.

At first those eyes were filled with a bewilderment that Damon could easily empathized with. But to her credit she recovered from it far faster than he had, nodding her head in firm answer to his question before climbing to her feet.

"Uh-uh," she murmured under her breath as she dusted herself off. As she did so, Damon's HUD scanned her delicate features, and began to search the databanks for identification matches. Faster that you could say "stranded-in-the-middle-of-a-warzone-with-an-unarmed-woman" the holo-computer brought up her image. Senator Padme Amidala of the Galactic Republic.

Damon bite back a few choice words. What the _fark_ was a Senator doing so far from her senate office? From his training on Kamino, he had learned that politicians _ordered_ wars...they didn't fight 'em. That was left to the grunts.

He had to assume that she wasn't entirely soft -she 'ave never survived the exaction arena if she was. But she had, when many Jedi had not, so that had to mean something. Damon tried to focus on that as he rose to his feet.

Okay, so somehow they had both survived the fall from the gunship. Now what?

"We should head back to the forward command center," he finally proposed. What else could they do?

But before the words had fully left his mouth, the Senator's body language made it clear that she wouldn't even consider it. Damon's heart sank a bit. _Oh stang._

"No-no," the Senator said firmly, those chocolate eyes flashing in defiance. "Gather what troops you can, we got to get to that hanger-"

Damon was pretty sure he heard that last part wrong. Hanger? What hanger? He didn't remember anybody mentioning a hanger.

"Get a transport," she continued; and for a nano-second, Damon just stared at her. What, did she think he could pull those things from his utility belt? And could she just...give orders like this? Did a Senator have that jurisdiction?

Well evidently _this_ Senator did, because when she saw that he wasn't moving to follow her instructions, those eyes flashed again and make a cord in him stand at attention.

"Hurry!" she cried, her face holding such absolute conviction that he was powerless to anything other that obey her will. _Guess that's why she's a Senator._

"Rightaway!" he said, before turning on his heel and sprinting away, the chocolate-eyed woman right behind him.

* * *

 _Hey fanfiction! If you know this scene, it's when Padme and a clone fall out of the gunship on the way to catch Dooku, and later when he goes to help her._

 _Ok, so this clone and Cody's scenes are literally the only good personalisation the clones get in the prequels. Even before the Clone TV show, this rather gentle interaction between the clone -who I have named Damon- and Padme made me think that they were very human beings. So this is their story of how the survive Geonisos to rescue Anakin and Obi Wan._


	2. The Senator and the Soldier

RandomReaderOfAnyThing : as you wish (and I love your name)!

Guest: Thank you! Here you go!

Piper1996: Yes, some clones name themselves, others need a little help. It's explained a little more in this chapter.

Alaster Boneman : Hope you like it.

* * *

Chapter 2:

For 'bout a hundred yards or so they travelled in complete silence, the only sound being the woman's occasional huff of breath as she fought not to fall behind. He had to admit, she was keepin' up well with the pace he had set for them -which wouldn't be considered laborious by any means to a fellow brother; but Damon was very aware that most normal-bred beings would find it difficult after a while. If not impossible.

But the Senator was doing well, considering that she had spent a solid hour fighting for her life early that day. He could be leniate in his assessment of her, the trooper reasoned, and his assessment of her capability. It was obvious that she was in good physical condition -her jumpsuit did little to hid it- and had the mental endurance to push through the discomfort the desert world must have been causing her.

Damon had to admit, he admired the steadfast glare in her gaze, even when she wiped the sweat from her brow. He could think of worse traveling companions...his brother Poodoo came to mind 'long with his bantha-ass jokes-

But then that comfortable silence was broken.

"What is your name Trooper?" Amidala inquired of him as they struggled up a particularly lengthily sand-dune, her tone polite, and surprisingly steady. But it froze him mentally all the same, even as his legs continued to move.

It was a simple question. And easily answered too. But that didn't stop Damon from being caught of guard as the Senator asked it. And instantly wary.

...Why in the seven Corellian hells would a politician care about what his name was? Damon wrecked his brain but for the life of 'im, he couldn't think of a single good reason.

But he had no trouble comin' up with plenty of bad ones.

It was no secret amidst the cloning facilitates that the fekking Long-Necks -who'd created and supervised them- heavily resented the naming compulsion that had swept over the units -it hadn't been planned, but as they had all grown older, the more outgoin' and creative brothers among them had just taken to naming themselves, and then helped the duller minded of 'em pick something out as well.

-To make a long story short, the fekking Long-Necks had loathed the fact they hadn't been able to predicted and calculated such a level of identity taking, to the point where they had tried to forbid it.

But the clones had found an easy way to skirt around this rule -all they had to do was identify themselves by their numbers to Long-Necks' faces, while calling each other by their names the rest of the time. Giving the fact that the Bounty Hunters who'd been hired to trained them had taken their side, the Long-Necks -for the most part- now just pretended that their names didn't exist.

But every now and again, there would some unlucky cadet who was too loose with his name. And before you knew it, he would disappear -never to be seen again.

Damon had no way of knowing whether or not the Senator felt the same way, and even if she didn't, he really... didn't _want_ to give her his 'ame -it was something private, something between him and his brothers.

But he didn't really have a say in the matter. He was fairly certain that as a Senator, she outranked him, which meant he was required to fulfill her request to the best of his ability.

He decided to go the safe route. Without turning to look at her, he gave his reply.

"...My designation is CT-9874 Ma'am," he told her, feeling fairly confident that this answer would be found sufficient. Not expecting a reply, he brought his attention back to the obstacles ahead of them.

Given that they were on foot, they had to get to wherever they were going _fast_ or they'd dehydrated -the woman before himself, as his armor would help put that off for a little longer.

And on top of that, if dehydration didn't get 'em, a few droids easily could, if they weren't watchful. With the Senator unarmed, and him with just his decee, it wouldn't take much fire-power to do them it...and _that_ was if some local animal life didn't decide a pair like them wouldn't make a for a tasty snack-

"Yes, but what is your _name_ Trooper?" the Senator asked again, her voice laced with confusion. A confusion that was shortly followed by a tone of disbelief. "Don't...don't you have a name?"

This time he did look at her, for the briefest of moments; he didn't even turn his head, content to let the HUD display show her image. The concern showing in her dark eyes admittedly threw him a bit. Not even his brothers ever showed such open, sentimental... _care_. It unnerved him -he was just a grunt. No different than any of the other boys. And the million more that would follow 'em. Why should she care so much?

"No, Ma'am," he said, really wishing that they weren't having this conversation. "I don't."

And that was the truth. Officially speaking here...none of the troops had names. Only their numbers were recorded in their files and the clone archive. Their nicknames were know only to each other, only _existed_ to each other. And that was enough for them.

...But apparently, the Senator found his answer to be offensive, if the sudden hardness in her eyes and tightness in her mouth were any indications. She was angry, and Damon flinched just looking at it. A angry Senator wasn't like an angry brother, would could just get into a sparing match, and blow some steam that way. An angry Senator had power. _Real_ power, that could make the lives of his fellow clones miserable, his Straight-Up voice sternly reminded him. And suddenly, he was blinding grasping for anyway to appease her.

"But my brothers," he blurred out suddenly, to both Amidala's surprise as well as his own. He cleared his throat, and started over. "My brothers call me 'Damon'."

And just like that, her chocolate gaze soften, and Damon released the breath he'd hadn't know that he was holding.

"Brothers..." she repeated, as if the word had touched her. But before he could try and read into that, her expression smoothed out, becoming professionally serious once again, and just as unreadable as any of the Long-Necks (though there was no getting around the fact that even under the visor she'd just put on, the Senator's face was still significantly kinder -not to mention just all 'round better lookin'- than any Long-Neck).

"Well Trooper Damon, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she said formally, though her eyes flashed. "I trust that working together, we'll be able to get ourselves out of this situation."

At this point, he had to try hard not to stare at her.

...Wasn't...wasn't that the whole _point?_ What about their situation had made it necessary to say it out loud?

Maybe it was a Senator thing. Or a female thing. Both went way over his head.

* * *

By this time they had make it to the top of the dune...and the fekking sand explode in front of their faces.

Reflexively, Damon dove sideways, taking the Senator with him. The two of them rolled downwards into the corner of the dune, and found themselves with their backs against a down GAR gunship. As more baster fire began peppering down at them, Damon helped her scrambled over its scorched hull, and dropped into the semi shelter provided on the other side.

"What's out there?" Amidala asked calmly, her voice quiet. But her eyes were fiercely alert like a mother nexus, ready and willing to defend herself. Damon felt an another flickering of respect for her. Sentimental speeches asides, she clearly wasn't soft -and he really wished he 'ad a extra blaster to give 'er. It was never a bad idea to have someone capable coving your left.

"I'm tryin' to figure that out," he told her. "Listen to the blaster shots."

And the did. _Ba-bang, Ba-bang._ Twin shots, rapidly fired, quadruped in succession.

 _Stang._

"Destroyers," Damon stated grimly, and Amidala bit her lip. Not even Jedi enjoyed going against Destroyers Droids, with their blue force-fields that made it twice as hard to blast the clankers.

"Any ideas?" Amidala murmured, as blaster fire exploded on the hull, sending molten orange sparks flying over their heads.

"...I'm open to suggestions Ma'am," Damon confessed after a moment, his mind whirling as he tried to create a plausible strategy. But the fact of the matter was they just weren't in a good spot. The enemy had the high ground, and they were trapped like womp-rats in a barrel.

* * *

 **Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner**

 **Okay, just to make something clear, Damon has a little crush on Padme -not that he recognizes it for what it is- but he's not in love with her. I mean come on, the boy been surrounded by his brothers and Kaminoians his whole life, Padme's the first human woman he's ever seen...and she's one hell of a pretty lady.**

 **With that said, what do yo think of their dynamic?**


	3. New Plan

Guest: Well here is that update! I hope I didn't keep you waiting.

Jack : Well my friend, here is more.

Alaster Boneman : Thanks, that is what I was going for -Damon hasn't really lived his life, and Padme can tell that.

spell checker 11111 : I hope you like what I came up with.

* * *

Chapter 3:

Amidala nodded briskly at his answer, her eyes remaining calm. "Alright then," she said. "...in that case, I may have an idea. But it will take the both of us."

"I'm all ears ma'am," Damon said, after firing a couple of shots from around the hulls edged. While he couldn't see it, his bucket's enhanced audio nevertheless told him of the futility of his actions, when the sound of ricochet echoed in his ears -the baster bolts bouncing off the destroyers' shields. He gripped his decee tighter - _frekk it_.

"Are you a sure shot Trooper?" the Senator inquired as she turned around, rising into a sprinting position.

 _That_ caused him fully turn his head to take a look at her. Bristling slightly, he replied, "I should think so ma'am. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

The shadow of a smile crossed Amidala's face at that. "Good -then when the destroyers come after me, blast them."

Damon started. After her? Why would the clankers-

He received his answer when the woman took off like a Malastare pod-racer; leaving the protection of the down ship and sprinting across the sand with a fitness and pose that declared to his eyes that she was trained in this maneuver...and that he possibly _wouldn't_ end-up being reconditioned for getting a Galactic Senator kill.

However, his hope was shaken somewhat when both destroyers opened fire on her, kicking up the sand directly behind her heels.

* * *

"You scrap heads!" the squeaking voice of a regular battle droid squawked over-head, causing Damon to grit his teeth. Stang, that voice was frekking _annoying._ "Shoot her! Shoot her!" it cried.

Damon snorted, knowing and glad that the sound would be muted inside his sun bonnet -talk about the monkey-lizard poking the gundark. If he'd been a Rollie, he would've blasted the rust bucket first change he 'ad just to shut it up. Would've done the lot of them a favor, that's for sure.

By now Amidala had crossed over to the edged of the sand dunce, and Damon tensed. Now what was she gonna do? There wasn't anywhere left to go.

With this in mind, he started to get up himself- only to find himself gawking as the Senator flipped herself over the sand dunce's edged with the grace and flexibility of a Twi'lek dancer (or at least, the flexibility he assumed a Twi'lek dancer would have -he'd never seen one in real life yet, and knew 'em only from the enticing pictures in the holozines passed 'round the barracks...those girls could bend in some mind-bogglin' ways).

But back to the matter at hand -Amidala tucked herself into as tight a ball as she could, knees to her chest and head ducked. But her hands she kept out, at least at first, to guide her path as she summersaulted down the hill with astounding speed and accuracy.

Pretty soon, she had disappeared altogether. And the tell-tell sound of the destroyers folding themselves up rang out. Next thing Damon knew, they were shooting passed 'im after Amidala - _oh._

All of a sudden, the Senator's plan made a lot more sense.

* * *

With a renewed determination, Damon didn't waste another nano-second. Charging forward, he slide to a halt at the dunce's edged and heaved his decee up to firing position.

Amidala was still in her rolling tumble down the slope, and the Rollies were gaining on her at a damn fast rate. But their shields were down now -and that was all Damon cared about.

It took a few well placed shots to turn the clankers into the scrap-heaps the were. But he managed it alright -like he'd told the Senator, he was a sure shot.

As soon as the tinnies had gone up in smock, Amidala unfurled herself, using her booted feet as breaks to come grinding to a sudden stop. Rolling over so that she was lying on her stomach, she smiled up at him, a crown of white teeth flashing like Mon-Calemari pearls against her sand covered skin. "Excellent work Trooper," she praised -and frekk if that his face didn't flame up a bit beneath his bucket.

He nodded.

This was turnin' out to be not so bad an assignment, he mused to himself almost bemusedly. Dispute being stranded in a barren war-zone, there were some definite high points here; not only was he alive (always a good thing, that), but he had just scorched his first Rollies. And had a pretty woman thank 'im for it to boot. Life could -and had been- worse.

Save for being separated from his squad, this was turning in to one hell of a nice first mission. The only think that would have made it better would be if the boys 'ad been here too. Especially Stright-Up -his closest brother would either 'ave flip...or made a fool of himself quoting the regs to the Senator.

Either one would 'ave been amusing to see.

Suddenly Amidala's chocolate gaze widen to resemble the twin satieties that circled 'round Kamino. Pushing herself up on a knee, she cried out to him, "Trooper behind you!"

Damon didn't hesitant. Pivoting promptly on his heel, he found himself pointing his weapon between the un-living eyes of the ordinary, load mouth clanker. His mouth twitched upwards.

"What-what?" the thing stuttered. "Where did-"

Peering over Damon's shoulder -and seeing the ruined remains of its troops- the tinny let out a mewling sort of whine. "Ah-oh... _ohhhh."_

And Damon blasted it.

 _G_ _ood riddance_ , he thought, as it's skeleton frame was blow apart, collapsing at his feet.

Slowly, Amidala trudged her way back up the dunce, and when she was close enough, Damon shouldered his decee and offered her a hand. She took it.

"That was something ma'am," he told her honestly, as he pulled the Senator up the last few steps. "You certainly don't lack courage."

Amidala shrugged modestly, and push a few loose strand of hair out her face. "Don't forget to include yourself in that statement Trooper," she told him amicably. "You did rather well yourself."

Then her eyes gleamed. "And you even found me blaster," she added, reaching down to scoop up the discarded firearm of the B1. But as she took it up, the Senator paused, and reached out to brush her hand against the red markings painted on the droid's arms.

"Ma'am?" Damon asked after a moment, unsure as to what was going on.

"...I've seen this before on Naboo," Amidala said at last, distantly. "Battle Droids with these markings are the ones who are assisted to guard cargo bays or flight hangers. I think this was just a patrol."

...somehow, Damon didn't think that the plan forming inside her head was to head the other way and avoid them.

Standing up, Amidala took a breath, and nodded determinedly in the direction the droids had come from.

"We have to try and find their post-it may be our way out of here."

* * *

 _Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought and all update sooner._

 _Okay, so I really did like the battle droids as a kid growing up. I thought they were funny, kept the show from being to serious for little kids...ah good times. And how did you like how they dealt with the destroyers._

 _Anyhow, Damon and Padme now have something of a plan, and we'll have to see how that turns out._


	4. Ticket Out

Mauryn : Thanks, I hope you like this story all the way to the end.

Alaster Boneman : thanks, and it's just clone lingo.

* * *

 _chapter 4:_

Although he knew he wasn't suppose to, Damon soon found himself questioning the logic in allowing a non-military female to command this mission of theirs - a mission that he no longer felt he knew the purpose of, save survival. Come to think of it, the whole thing was blatantly irrational. From the moment he had allowed her directive to take priority over his own, he had been having what a non-clone might have called _anxiety_ over the choice.

And why wouldn't it? The whole thing was absurd in the extreme. What the _frek_ were they doing, following enemy tracks in enemy territory, without the slightest idea of what awaited 'em there? And all on the bantha hope that it might led to a way out of the situation?

 _This was something Poodoo would think was a good idea_, he reflected grimly, taking absolutely no comfort from the thought. What the kark was _he_ doing, in permitting this to continue when they were out-manned, out gunned, and had absolutely no advantaged to speak of? Straight-Up would be have a seizure at the entire lack of planning involved in it.

"...Ma'am?" he said at last, when he could no longer stand it. In response, Amidala turned her head so that her chocolate eyes evenly meet his visor, Damon and found himself straightening up so that he stood at his tallest height -not to intimidate her (which he doubted would work anyways), but in the instinctive gesture long trained into him to present a respectable, level headed front while stating a grievance. That way, the drill sergeant would know that you were honestly concerned, and not just a _h_ _u'tuun -_ a coward.

Not that this have ever change much but...but still. It was a matter of pride. Of honor. _Ijaa._ Each clone fought to earn it during training, all so that they could have the honor of dying to keep it in this war. Damon 'ad waited for this chance his entire life. To finally be allowed to fight besides his _vodes_ , and achieve that vision -that _haa'it_ \- together. They had all dreamed of it back on Kamino: he, Straight-Up, Beat, Poodoo, and Digger had always spent long nights dreaming of what it would be, to show their worth with no one to stop 'em.

Damon wasn't afraid of dying. Not remotely. But he wasn't spice crazy on the thought of bitin' it at the side of anyone _except_ his brothers. Not even if anyone _was_ a pretty woman.

"Ma'am, are you sure that...that this is the best course of action?" he managed to ask her, as they half walked, half-slide down the slope of the dune. Glaring around briefly, Damon bite back another curse his HUD scanned their new surroundings. He and the Senator had, for the moment at least, left the endlessly sifting sand dunes behind them. But considering what lay before 'em, Damon almost missed it. Before 'em was a jagged midget canyon of orange-brown rock (indicating that it might be volcanic, if his memory served him right) and, just to make his day all the brighter, the walls were peppered liberally with holes just big enough to hid frek-knew-what.

The whole thing screamed ambush, in his mind.

* * *

"We could be walking straight off the cliff side - so to say," Damon continue somewhat lamely, glaring around at the very real cliff sides that surrounded them, looming over 'em like a predator about to pounce.

He didn't like this. Not one bit.

But thankfully though, Amidala seemed to consider his words, slowing her pace even as she keep her blaster cocked. She bite her lip. "Yes, I see what you mean," she murmured to him quietly. "But that doesn't change the fact that going this way is the best chance we have of securing transportation."

"...With all due respect Ma'am," Damon countered tensely, his stomach sifting uneasily at the unprecedented level of subordinate he was showing. "But I think it's more likely that-"

He never got to finish that sentence. It dried up in his mouth, like his brother's blood and sweat on the Geonosian sand. Beyond the dunes from where he and the Senator had just come from, a low rumbling shook the ground.

And just like that, the conversation was forgotten.

Adrenaline firing through his veins, Damon took a firm step forward and shoved Amidala towards the opposing cliff. "Get to high ground," he growled at her sharply as his senses heighten inside his helmet. "If it's non-friendlies, we can catch them in a cross fire."

The Senator asked no questions. With barely a nod to show that she'd heard 'im, the woman took off towards her chosen destination -one of those small, peppered holes just large enough to hid her slim frame, 'bout several feet off the ground. Not the most ideal height by any stretch of the imagination, but it was what could be easy accessed under the circumstances. As Damon took off for a jagged cover on the canyon's opposite side, his HUD showed his ally tossing her blaster onto the over head ledge of the cliff, in order to free up her hands to scale it.

She leapt, her arms extended, so that her hands and feet could secure firm holds on wall. With a small grunt, she shimmed up to her objective with relative ease, considering that her back looked like a pack of tooka cats had gone to town on it. Damon grimace. He had noticed that soon into their journey together, and the raw redness of the injury had make him grateful for his armor.

But he hadn't said anything. Why would he? The Senator was undoubtedly aware of it (the pain had to be intense) and, again, he was not a medic. He didn't have the supplies or the know how to treat it.

Reaching his own goal, Damon vaulted over a flat rock, and dropped to a knee behind it, DC-15 ready and reloaded.

 _Bring it,_ he thought, with a coldness he hadn't know he could feel.

* * *

He didn't have to wait long. All to soon a party of regular tinnies came clamoring into the canyon, the same way they 'ad. 'Bout two dozen in all. Not the best odds, but workable, if they did this right. Briefly, he lifted his visor to the Senator, rising a hand before gesturing towards his deecee. _Hold fire until I give the signal._ Was what it meant. He used an older, more common code that was normal taught among non-clones.

Amidala nodded and pushed herself further back into her hidey hole.

Then things got a little more complex. Behind the party of droids came a trio of local bugs, clicking away at each other in their own tongue atop a standard hover-sled; their scrawny fingers flying over the controls as they directed where it would go. But the bugs weren't what made it complex.

No. The five brothers that were also on the hover-sled did that; contained in individual energy cells with their hands shackled behind their backs.

Damon felt his eyes widen momentary as he took in the sight of his fellow troopers. Their armor was filthy with sand and other dark stains -stains that Damon feverously hope belong to more bugs rather than clones- and one of them was trying hard to keep his weight of his leg.

Damon didn't have the slightest as to why these brothers had been taken prisoner rather than killed...and frankly, he didn't give a damn. They needed help. Plus, that sled just might be their ticket out of here.

He open fire.

The fire bolt to leave his blaster was a sure shot, slamming beautifully into the clanker's neck joint, and thereby sending it's miserable head flying (and weeing all the way). The Geonsians screeched as the rest of the droids spun around (and meanwhile the brothers on the sled instantly became alert).

"What the-"

"What happen?"

"Where did _that_ come from?"

Damon smirked. Well now, if they wanted to know so badly, why not let them? He fired again. Another headshot.

"CLONE!" one droid cried out. His partner next to him look confused (or at lest as confused as a droid could look).

"Un, how could it be one of the clones? Their all over-"

"No you idiot! _Another_ clone!" the first one exclaimed, exasperated.

" _Ohhhh-"_

"Don't just stand there, _blast-"_

But the Senator beat the droid to it, easily mowing down three of them before the tinnies caught on that they had double the trouble on their hands. Damon began to fire as well, know that his hiding spot was hidden no more. He got two down, but there were still to many to go...they needed more back-up. He changed targets, scorching two of the bugs on the sled, and allowing the Senator to blast the other one as it tried to fly away.

Getting to his feet, Damon bolted for the sled, while Amidala provided him with covering firing. The clankers were busy trying to reorganize themselves after the destruction of their leaders, buying the trooper a few vital seconds to leapt atop the hovering platform, and take cover behind that control panel as blaster bolts flew over his head.

"Good job ner vod!" one of the imprisoned clones congratulated him, seeming unfazed by the bolts that were dissolving into the energy wall of his cage. "Now get us out of here!"

Undoubtedly, he meant press the button that would released him -and Damon's training told him to do so...but instinct held him back. If he let all five of 'em out here and now -then what? The six of them would have one blaster between them, and the space behind the panel was only big enough of him...the others would have to run for cover...which the one with the bad leg couldn't do.

His brain burned. There had to be a better way.

"Uh...any time now brother," the same clone spoke again, and having obviously expected to be free by this point, his tone notably more tense. "Don't mean to rush you, but the tinnies are gettin' closer. To us _and_ your friend!"

* * *

Reviews make me happy, so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.

Okay, so we got more clone! You'll learn why they were captured next chapter. Any guesses? And how is Damon's charater in this chapter. I wanted to go more in depth with him.


	5. Like Rain and Water

Alaster Boneman: Thanks, hope you like this one.

hola: Yes, i'm sure many can, keep reading.

Mary: not much action here, but I hope you like this.

* * *

chapter 5:

At his fellow trooper's warning, Damon quickly checked his HUD, and cursed under his breath to see that his brother was absolutely right. The tinnies were getting to close, far to close. Up on her ledge, the Senator was pressed so firmly against the wall to avoid the scorching bolts, that it was a wonder she hadn't merged with it. At this rate, it would only be a matter of minutes before they were overrun-

Unless...

"Brace yourselves boys," Damon warned those who were imprisoned behind him -on the com channel between their buckets naturally, so he wouldn't tip off the clankers. Not that their circuit-brains would comprehend, but still. Without spare another word or even a thought, Damon fired a few more shots from around his cover, before reaching his hand out over the controls, and slamming his gloved palm down on the _forward._

With a burst from the generators, the hover-sled charged like a starve Hutt's rancor, and his brothers cried out as their cages jerked, and they struggled to remain upright, the one with the bad leg grunting deeply. _Well_ , he thought frustrated, and guilty, _I warned 'em didn't I?_ He'd warned the _di'kuts_ , the fools, to brace themselves hadn't he?

But he pushed the thought away, he couldn't afford to think like that now.

They were going fast now -mowing down the clankers like they were nothin'. Damon 'ad never heard music in his life, besides the ring of blasters bolts,and the occasional cadet who would (despite the potential likelihood of being reconditioned for it) drum his fingers or tap his foot, but he imagined that the sound of the droids screeching as they were cleaved in the middle was what music would sound like.

It was nice.

* * *

With the droids being taken care of, Amidala was free to turn her attention to blasting the bugs that were attempting to get away. She got all but one. Damon felt his heart sink as it fluttered away. Kiff. That was gonna come back to bit 'em. But he couldn't think of that now.

When the last clanker was down and out, Damon stood up, and brought the sled to a grinding halt. The troopers all grunted again.

Then it was quite, and the sound of it hurt his ears. Without a word, he pressed the button that turned of the energy cells, freeing the other troopers.

"Well," said the loudmouth from before, "That wasn't what I 'ad in mind, but it certainly worked. Thanks _vod._ I'd shake your hand but..."

Here the trooper rolled his shoulders to demonstrate that his hand were stilled bounded behind his back.

...Briefly, Damon wondered if this clone was as annoying to other brothers, or if it was just him. "Here," he said, somewhat gruffly. "Turn around."

Naturally, he couldn't see the other clone's face, but he could just imagine him grinning as he did just that. "Your a mind reader mate."

Damon's eye twitched. And here he'd thought Poodoo was bad. But a trooper was a trooper, so all he could do was hope he was better with a blaster than with his one-liners. After the one clone was free, he went of to the side, and his fellow prisoners came up mercifully without a word. Damon freed them all, except for the one brother with the bad leg, who was sitting one the edge of the hover sled. _Ah fark it,_ Damon thought inwardly. It was always something wasn't it?

"Gene?" the loudmouth called out, humorously. "You alright, or is the sand just really interesting?"

The trooper, Gene, shot straight up at that and nodded his head so fervidly, Damon was mildly surprised it didn't come off. "I'm fine," the kid said, way to quickly for it to be true. "I just-"

As he spoke, he hopped off the sled, but whatever he was going to say lost it weight when the kid crumpled to the ground, his leg unable to support him.

"Gene!" barked another of the troopers, anger expertly masking his concern. Damon could relate. As one they rushed over, despite the kid's protests.

"I'm _fine_ Hits Hard-" the kid tried again.

 _Hits Hard?_ Damon thought absently. What a name. And it was pretty easy to guess how he got it.

"If you were fine, you'd be able to stand," Hits Hard snapped. Without allowing Gene a chance to argue, the other trooper reached down, and roughly pulled him up, slinging his friend's arm over his own shoulders to support him.

"Well, it's a good thing your a medic then Gene," the loudmouth said helpfully. Kinda.

Gene snorted, and judging by the way his helmet was turned, Damon was willing to bet Loudmouth was getting one wampa of a death glare. "Well it _would be_ , 45 -if the tinnies hadn't taken all my gear."

45? So the loudmouth didn't have a name yet.

By this time, Amidala had climbed down from her edge, and was jogging over to them. Seeing the wounded trooper, her already serious features turned grimmer, even though her eyes soften with empathy.

"Were are you injured Trooper?" she asked as she came to a stop. Damon understood -somewhat- that she was only trying to help, but he also knew that if anything, she was making it worse for the kid -who probably already wanted to crawl into a hole.

"I-no-it's not bad Ma'am," Gene fumbled, and from the sound of his voice, it was clear that he had to be blushing. "I just fell funny on my leg when the droids captured us-"

"And if you don't want to be taking by them again," Damon interrupted, "We got to get out of here. It won't take that one bug long to get help."

The Senator nodded briskly, before turning to the two troopers who had yet to say a word. "Go to the droids and take their blasters -you'll needed to be armed."

Without a word, they speed off to do so. Then the Senator turned to the rest of them. Inclining her head to Gene, she said, "Help him back on the hover sled -Damon, do you think you can pilot it out of here?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered promptly, while pointedly ignoring the surprised chattered the others let loose on the private channel. They'd get used to her soon enough. "The controls aren't difficult."

"Good," she said. "Now lets get out of here."

With that, they were all on the sled, the silent ones having returned and passed out the blasters. While the others took up defense ready positions, Damon stepped up to the controls. in no time, they were zooming over the sand and rocks, out of the canyon.

It was only a little while later that the loudmouth broke com silence again -only on private link of course, and with good reason.

"So mate," 45 said lightly, as if they were batchers, and not in a life or death situation. "Where in the dessert did you dig _her_ up, you lucky gundark?"

Damon's hand tighten on the controls before loosening again. _Fark it_ , he thought again. It was always something.

* * *

"Troopers," the Senator asked a little while into the trip, mostly to think of anything but the scorching sun. "If you don't mind me asking, why did the Geonosians take you prisoner? You out of all your brothers."

From his place next to Gene, Hits Hard merely shrugged his shoulders. "Can't really say Ma'am," he told her bluntly. "We don't speak bug -couldn't understand a word they said."

"But it was clear that it was the Geonosians that wanted us alive," 45 added, managing to sound a little more serious. "Before they came on the scene, we were pinned down. Our airship was shot down -Gene fell out- and our pilots were killed they moment they tried to get to us in the back."

Then he chuckled jovially. "Guess they decided that we five were to good looking to kill -isn't that right Twins?"

The two silent ones said nothing.

The Senator blinked. "Twins?" she echoed, her face confused.

"Yeah," 45 said, as if it was obvious. "We're all brothers of course, but these two...their like like rain and water. Always has been. Rarely speak if they can help it...kinda the opposite of me really."

"You don't say," Damon grumbled. No one heard him.

"What are their names?" Amidala asked curiously.

"Luk and Layo...means light and dark in some some langue or other-"

"Naboo," Amidala said softly. 45 stated. "Pardon?"

"It means light and dark on Naboo...and what about yourself? What's your name?"

"Oh, ah...well Ma'am," 45 said embarrassed. "-you see I don't have one yet. I'm still spit-balling."

"And he won't take any suggestions," Hits Hard said dryly. 45 huffed. "That's because you lot have no style or imagination," he shot back.

"Well if _you_ weren't so blasted picky-"

"May I make a suggestion?" the Senator interceded gently, before it could get out of hand. At once, all mouths closed, and visor were on her.

"Certianly Ma'am," 45 said, sounding far to excited. "Have at it."

Across the com channel, Hits Hard snorted -"That's not the only thing he'd liked her to have at."

"Hits, be quite," Gene hissed back, "You'll get us all in trouble."

Meanwhile, Amidala's cholacte eyes had turned thoughtful...and a bit mischievous, "Well, how about...Dire?"

"Uh..Dire?" 45 repeated uncertainly, testing the word.

"Yes, I think it suits you...it means _talks_ in Naboo."

* * *

 _Review make me happy so tell me what you think and I'll update sooner._

 _Okay, so what do you think of the action, and the new troopers to join the party? Any guesses what happens next._


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